Endless Debt
Chapter 233 - 24: Umbilical Cord

Chapter 233: Chapter 24: Umbilical Cord

In the "Devil and Electric Guitar Operation Guide" written by Nesanel, this mysterious and powerful deputy chief has mentioned the importance of names more than once.

Names have magic power.

By writing both human and devil names on that forbidden blood contract, precious souls can change owners.

"If you want to summon a devil, first, you need to know its name."

In a trance, Nesanel’s whispers lingered by the ears, then shattered by pale limbs, which stretched out from a thin pool of blood, as though this blood connected to another space.

He heard the name Bologue called, thus finding his position in the darkness.

The fury of madness surged to the extreme, and the rational world gradually fell into collapse, everything in sight seemed to possess life force, slowly writhing like flesh.

The terrifying pressure almost made Bologue unable to breathe, as if an invisible giant hand was choking his throat.

An ear-piercing scream erupted from Belli’s throat, he shouted.

"It shouldn’t be like this... everything should have ended!"

Bologue attacked the ritual, all preparations went to waste, logically speaking, the ritual should have been interrupted, but now it started running again.

This... this seems unrelated to the ritual.

Belli looked at Bologue with red eyes, the light on Bologue’s surface surged, bizarre silver liquid overflowed, enveloping Bologue’s body and solidifying into strong metal.

Tiny pains released from Belli’s body, he saw countless silver snakes struggling to escape his body, all rushing towards Bologue, merging with the silver Iron Armor.

"It’s you!"

Belli roared loudly, his twisted face filled with madness.

He heard such words inside the sect, some people at some opportune moments, merely whispering their names can easily summon their arrival.

But everything has a price.

Bologue wasn’t crazy like Belli, he remained calm, composedly dealing with everything before him, pale limbs squeezed stretching out from the mirror-surface of the blood pool, pounding the walls and destroying the ground while wildly dancing.

Colliding with the Iron Armor, the metal surface instantly caved in, Bologue fiercely rammed into the pile of benches in the corner, and the limbs didn’t continue attacking, but instead rolled up Belli.

In Belli’s wailing, the limb easily twisted Belli’s body, flesh did not fall but firmly adhered to the surface of the limb.

Strange chewing sounds arose.

The surface of the limb wasn’t smooth and flat skin but countless, squeezed together, almost indistinguishable, barnacle-like tissues that split open with the blood’s soaking, revealing small mouthparts that hungrily gnawed at flesh.

Corresponding with the name of gluttony.

In the blink of an eye, Belli was devoured clean, not a trace of residue remained, as if he never existed. If not for Bologue interfering with the ritual’s progress, maybe now the one being eaten would have been the unfortunate Bane.

After devouring Belli, the limb still remained unsatisfied; accurately speaking, from its very birth, it didn’t know what satisfaction was.

The end of the limb split open, a huge compound eye emerged amidst the blood, it gazed at Bologue, then let out a woman’s soft laughter.

Bologue knew clearly; the next one was himself.

Even experts couldn’t predict such a scenario; Bologue could only attribute everything to his own umbilical cord.

The devil that took his soul valued him exceptionally, gaining the Undying Body while the connection with the devil became incredibly deep.

It was this deep connection that allowed Bologue to ignore the ritual’s absence, and thus summon this bizarre existence; also due to this nightmare curse, Bologue fell into such a predicament.

Should he surrender?

Bologue is an Undead, but facing this bizarre devil, no one knows what might happen; even an Undying Body might be imprisoned, and he didn’t want to experience the Black Prison again.

Blood surged, almost filling the entire church; the limb struck again, aiming to devour the room’s only life.

Bologue struggled to move his body under the severe pressure; for ordinary people, facing this maddening oppression, few would be able to resist, yet using Face of Horror more had accustomed Bologue to act under such pressure.

Palmer often said, Bologue was like a horror film enthusiast; seeing weird things more often led even his brain to become distorted.

Slinging the hook rope, embedded into the broken ceiling overhead, Bologue soared into the air, avoiding the limb’s grasp.

According to these cultists’ thoughts, he should have summoned the devil, but unlike the Tyrant, who bore reason and carried some grace, the devil before him was evidently more violent, like a beast acting purely on instinct.

Or maybe what he saw was not the true devil, merely an illusory incarnation? Or a manifestation of power.

No... it’s not like this.

Transaction and cost.

The frenzied attack of the tentacle is actually demanding its due. It is so furious because the madman Bologue who summoned it now refuses to pay the cost of flesh.

"I didn’t sign anything!"

After realizing this, Bologue shouted and called out to the ceiling. The bricks collapsed and turned into a giant sword, crashing onto the tentacle and bursting into flying dust.

The dust stirred, something was coming, and then countless threads of blood pierced through the dust, the gentle liquid turning into scarlet thorns, whipping towards Bologue.

There was no space to evade mid-air; the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid fully unfolded, silver-white metal continuously proliferating, enveloping Bologue in heavy armor.

Blinding sparks erupted as Bologue slammed into the ground, the armor shattered, leaving half his body a bloody mess.

Blood filled his throat; the opponent was far stronger than Bologue had imagined, rendering him powerless with just one strike. The excruciating pain invaded his nerves, his body gradually numb, even struggling to maintain the output of Ether. The crumbling Iron Armor dissolved into scattered mercury, spilling everywhere.

The tentacle slowly approached, scarlet thorns entwining, Bologue could clearly see the tiny barnacles opening their mouths on the surface of the tentacle, ready to feast on his less-than-pleasant flesh.

Suddenly, the tentacle’s movement halted, then in Bologue’s eyes, it lost its blood color, turned into an eerie gray-white, and then collapsed.

Ritual... is it over?

In Bologue’s doubt, the tentacle disintegrated and annihilated, turning into large smears of dust and dispersed. It was only then that Bologue noticed that the bodies piled on the ground, the blood-drawn patterns had all disappeared, along with the tentacle.

Everything disappeared; it seemed that every moment of the tentacle’s existence rapidly consumed this flesh, and at the moment the flesh was completely consumed, the ritual was completely ended.

Bologue was stunned for a few seconds, relieved at the end of it all. He staggered to his feet, with injuries rapidly healing, the scattered mercury reassembled, crawling back onto Bologue.

Aside from the remaining madness, Bologue now distinctly felt another anomaly; he thought the intense pain caused him to lose control over the Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid, but now it seemed, that wasn’t the case.

He could clearly feel the Ether around had thinned considerably, as if the tentacle not only gnawed on flesh but also constantly devoured the scattered Ether, and when he was struck heavily, it managed to breach his Rectangular Soul Critical in a bizarre way, eroding his Ether, causing the Alchemy Armament to go out of control.

"Really crazy..."

Bologue said with a touch of fear.

After taking a few steps forward, Bologue saw the booklet fallen on the ground, picked it up, and opened the pages, its text clearly reflected in his eyes.

After a while, Bologue lifted his head again, looking at the collapsed ruins, he now only wanted to escape from this eerie place.

Complex matters should be handled by professionals, which is why this world needs experts.

Bologue was adept at killing enemies, but faced with this bizarre evil ritual, his experience was somewhat lacking. This kind of thing should be handed over to the Ninth Group, remember the Ninth Group is specifically responsible for dealing with these evil rituals.

With thoughts slightly relieved, Bologue was about to leave this ghostly place, but suddenly felt a cold, clammy touch on the back of his neck, then extending to his throat, a scent wafted in, accompanied by lazy moans, as if a woman who had just bathed embraced him with a body full of steam.

Bologue couldn’t move, it seemed his entire body was frozen.

"You have an odd scent about you."

A light voice lingered by his ear, the woman embraced him from behind, her pale hands extending along Bologue’s collar, reaching inside his clothes, touching his chest.

Cold sweat dripped into his eyes, yet Bologue kept his eyes wide open, staring into the void ahead.

"I’ve remembered you."

This should have been a statement of hatred, but the woman spoke as if she was flirting with Bologue.

The woman disappeared.

Bologue stood stiffly in place until the madness completely dissipated. Then, he abruptly knelt, hands supporting the ground, with large drops of sweat dripping and heavy panting continuously echoing.

Overwhelming pain surged from his chest, which was beyond the tolerance of willpower. Bologue’s body began to convulse as he struggled on the ground.

Frantically reaching out, he tore open his clothes, exposing his chest, vainly attempting to cool the flesh that felt as if it was burning.

After some time, Bologue gradually calmed down from this extreme state, leaning against the broken walls to support himself up.

Looking down, only to see a shallow handprint at the heart’s position, eternally engraved like a scar there, even the Undying Body could not heal it.

Bologue slowly lifted his head, his gaze pierced through the ruined building, towards the chaotic gray-white overhead.

He recalled the woman’s voice, her scent, and... her name.